Iron Eyes
by Batya000
Summary: O/O
1. Chapter 1

**Iron Eyes.**

There was a peculiar relief within the emptiness of the sea, no past to keen for, no future to forestall to, no nothing, just the tranquil soliloquy one could advantage and peace of mind that rarely came... if it ever did.

Lars leaned back on his hands, his eyes patrolling abroad for any fowl in the distance, calmly drifting his wistfulness through the dark waves that raised and crashed against each other. Foam that lathered and wind that rustled against him, there was something spellbinding within the mesmeric way of letting himself sway across his own indulgence; suddenly wondering how much freer would he feel if time had no repercussion inside his troubled heart.

"Lars!" Lars remained unresponsive at the distant calling. He closed his eyes, wishing to disregard anything that detached him from the hypnotic breeze swirls that swayed through his tresses.

"Lars? Darling!" The woman's voice grew louder and more demanding until he heard her footsteps land behind him. "There you are!" Lars exhaled mostly in annoyance. Even the cicadas' adamant chirping became more appealing than the voice of the old woman that stood behind him, "Thank God." She sounded alleviated yet too stern to be lively, "Come inside. It is late already."

"I'll stay here."

"But you haven't had dinner yet." She frowned, looking at their surroundings "lord, its pitch black in here" she pointed out, paying attention to his lack of responsiveness "You may also catch a cold in here."

"It is fine," he reassured, leaning back on his palms and serenely digging them on the soft sand, "I'll be here for a while." With the corner of his eye, he noticed that she carried a kerosene lamp with her.

The old woman embraced herself and walked over to his side, not quite sitting but kneeling forwards, just to make sure her question remained in unobtrusive secrecy "Are you missing someone, darling?"

_Loud._ He turned to face her, surprised "What?"

She smiled candidly, "there is an old presage that says that the sea is a hopeless-hearted only compeller because the sea too, in its extraordinary grandiosity, is forever bounded to be alone."

Lars frowned, upset at her meddling behavior "How silly."

She nodded, her hand in her chest "It draws the ear of the broken-spirited because the loud crashing of its waves is always louder than one heart's helpless beating."

Lars didn't respond and turned his thoughtfulness back to the sea.

The old woman smiled understandingly. "I see." She hugged her ragged dressing-gown, closer to her collarbone, "I'll better leave you two alone. You can come inside, whenever you please."

Lars nodded and before she started walking her way, she paused. Being the same woman who taught Japanese to a very young, disoriented, lost traveler, she felt the motherly instinct to advise the same man who she sheltered back on his tracks. The same young man whose heart was evidently all over the place "Just beware," she advised, "the sea has an angry heart; for he collects the bones of those who befriend him."

Lars remained silent.

"The sea offers his embrace to those who seek warmth. But don't come near, be cautious, for he lies." Lars just stared ahead, closing his eyes as she slowly faded away, not without some words to be laid, quietly by his side.

"In all my years living near these sounding waves, I have witnessed the loss of too many young souls, whose bodies rest unheard, at the bottom of the sea."

.


	2. Chapter 2

Through dark tresses of blood-matted hair, a loud screech reverberated through the disturbed trees that constrained their presences with eerie serenity and mayhem, blood leaked down Rakuen's neck, with a beasty roar, he unceremoniously plunged his katana inside his opponent's bowels, his innards creaked perturbingly loud when Rakuen winded his wrist further inside. His Samurai bracers soaked with his opponent's crimson gushes and Rakuen frowned as the man coughed against his shoulder.

"_Agh-_" The man faltered again as he profusely perspired against who was evidently rattling his demise. Trembling hands tugging insistently at Rakuen's shoulders, holding on tightly not to fall before his killer.

Rakuen bared his teeth as he pushed his arm deeply forward.

"_Clemency."_ The dying man managed to sputter, blood-stained hands trying to reach for his killer's face; the immeasurable sting making it impossible to think straight. A wreckage of a miserable life passing before his very eyes, losing lucidity as his eyes finally dulled.

Rakuen pulled the blade out of his victim's intestines and with a swift push, he kicked him off to the ground. Rakuen turned around to face the rest of his opponents and effortlessly lifted the sword back to his chest level. His combative stare warned their forthcoming deaths.

He could have stopped. At least to recollect himself, had they been different men with their primacies demystified or at least with a more realistic or an assertive judgment of their own survival, Rakuen could have called it a truss, just to let the remaining men _live_.

Still, their belligerent postures, showcased they didn't intend to back down. They all pulled out their swords, indicting vengeance motives and dishonor summonses as they unceremoniously approached Rakuen; willing to kill, as much as they were willing to die.

Rakuen Instinctively jumped ahead to stab one of his opponent's eyes, efficiently managing to trespass his skull. His newer victim screamed in pain and collapsed down on the entrails' thickened soil.

Another man wheezed in excruciation as his neck was expurgated with the same blade that just enraptured his friend's life out of this world. The formidable demon hopped back to the center of the attention to overpower another man and another one that followed after that, without hesitation and without what he was asked for.

"Fifty-five of your men," Rakuen hissed angrily at whom seemed to be their leader, exhaustion sweat running down his temples "leave." He demanded crossly at the remaining men.

"Why would we leave?" The leader snarled covetously. "We will finish you off." The man smirked, plummeting his body forward and twisting his forearm just in the right angle to thrust his blade through the demon's frontal Sarashi, much to the leader's aghast, the stab went through the demon's skin, but it proved to be futile.

His eyes widened.

_I gave you one chance._

"I think I'll keep this one." Rakuen sneered.

The leader's eyes gawked at the stabbed blade on the demon's chest, immediately, his face lost its' color and fear violently prickled beneath his skin, the now helpless man stuttered and backed several steps off as he realized his gigantic mistake. _This is a true monster_ "I was delusional. Please have compassion." He kneeled before Rakuen and pleaded with his hands held together "I can become your faithful serv-"

His head fell right off of his shoulders with an audible flare.

The last remaining thug hauled against his back, managing to cut beckoningly enough to go entirely through the side of Rakuen's torso, immediately forcing him to pause and process the magnitude of the perforation; the wound dribbled enough blood to pour in maroon droplets down on his feet. Rakuen cursed and turned to plunge rearward, brutally splitting the last of their men in half.

…

It all became silent for a minute. Just the sound of the whispering airstream enthralling him, Rakuen kneeled, grabbed his injured side and as he stared, he tried to maintain his senses alert. He reached up and untucked the blade out of his chest, throwing it to the side. An odd puncture coming from his arm forced him to pay attention to the several arrows incrusting the side of his forearm and all the way up to his shoulder.

"Shit." Rakuen mumbled through a string of coagulated blood out of his mouth. He spat and reached for the feather fletching from one of the arrows and swiftly yanked it out, audibly hissing when he found out they were all poisoned target points.

"**Fiend!**" Rakuen didn't flinch when he heard a loud, demanding voice, coming from a man in full Samurai armor, distinctively riding a black horse and a confident scorn to worsen his authoritative demeanor. The protected man, not too cautiously trotted closer to him, projecting his shadow across him, not without another thirty men who marched alongside him, with shields and gunpowder weaponry ready to start, yet another vicious confrontation against him. "Surrender in the name of the clan Shogun! We will respect your remains if you comply."

Rakuen stood up, reaching down to grab the golden hilt of his resilient katana, matching his flaming eyes in hue and intensity, bellicose and hazardous, both warningly akin to the tint of the sun. His sword, a powerful deterrent in which he trusted his entire strength, his soul and his life.

Adrenaline easing his wounds, at least sixty men lied dead around him, thirty did nothing to backtrack him. His katana pounded in unison of his beating heart, his veins emerged with iron and Rakuen knew the fatal electricity's potency that he shielded within his blood was ready to be uncharged. "Leave."

He would say that, just one time.


	3. Chapter 3

Through seas of people, Lars pushed one person aside and another at the same time only to try to reach up to the center, only hearing the loud commotion striving in between everyone present, "Stay away! Everyone must stay away!" An old man yelled at the multitude circling the bloodied creature "It must be a ghoul! A spirit that crafter acrimonies with the devil to crawl between the living! Let them wail at armistice and let their spirit be condemned without us indorsing the devil's prowess!"

Lars' raised an eyebrow and he walked in closer, it was three hours past midnight, villagers were usually still asleep but Lars was aware one early ricer heard an odd upheaval coming from the east rice fields and decided to wake the entire village up. The creature in question, kneeled as to rest and allowed the circle to become his clearest view.

Once Lars reached for the center his eyes widened, "Nakura?"

"Tell these motherfuckers to leave. I am in no shape to deal with any of them" Rakuen whispered, "I came here looking for you." With all the noise surrounding them, Lars had no idea how did he manage to understand Rakuen's perceptibly disturbed falters but somehow, the sound of his voice came across clearer that the rainfall's water. "Only you."


	4. Chapter 4

The cool breath on his backside eased his wound-induced fever and a shiver ran down his spine as soothing fingers set his hair aside. He was sitting quietly in front of Lars, ragged clothes hanging from his shoulders and his robe alongside the rest of his bloodied suit was placed on the stained floor.

Lars was careful not to dismiss the steps that he was instructed by the villagers to follow back when he carried Rakuen inside of the lamp-lit shack. Lars scrubbed the injured area with a damp cloth, he looked down to the herb unguent carefully placed on a tar-pot and reached down to oil his fingers up, he warmed the ointment between them and smeared them up against the rough skin surrounding the open lacerations, "Will you heal from these or should I stitch you up?"

"Overnight." Rakuen sighed, heavy-headed as the pain only eased between swift seconds "I'll have recovered enough to be back on track by the time sunrise graces the horizon."

Lars stopped his fingers, "back on track?" he sounded uncertain, "Isn't all of this enough for you?"

Rakuen closed his eyes, lightly pondering onto something far away from his grip, something Lars also wished upon. His bandaged hands fisted on his lap, there wasn't an everlasting alibi that he could poise through his lips this time around, "Tomorrow, I have to go before dawn obscures my path."

Lars grabbed the dirtied cloth he used for cleaning and wiped the excess balm off from his fingers on it. "Why did I think you would stay?"

"I can't say as well."

Lars glared contemptuously, his voice stern with frustration "Why did you come back then?"

"…I wanted to see you."

"Of course. You do what you please."

Hefty silence occurred between them, Rakuen's eyes remained closed as Lars was trying to finish patching him up "Done." Lars mumbled inattentively, he patted the dust off of his torso and quickly stood up. Rakuen nodded in gratitude, the wound that went through his side and the several lacerations on his chest and up to his arms were also taken care of and both were properly bandaged a while ago. Before he even woke up.

The ambiance was way too heavy for Rakuen to dismiss it "…I don't understand what you were expecting from me. This is who I am. This is all that I am and all that I have been since we first met…" his eyebrows frowned, eyes cast down. "…Sooner or later, I must die in the ground I ought to break."

…

Lars remained in silence for a while, his voice slowly cutting the quietness in half, "…Years have been long enough for me to forget... In a certain way. I am not sorry."

"As you should. Someday I won't return to you." Rakuen eyed his sword, "I shall find God's name before I can return with integrity. Else, my place is within and for my iron. I can't abandon my purpose."

"Your purpose? Is it meant to somehow give a hallow significance to your existence Nakura?" Lars chuckled, "And die in exchange for something you won't be able to witness? Something you don't understand? Dead people can't bask in morality, you must know it is pointless of you to forget you are alive."

…

"Decay exists as an extant form of life. For those who fight, it is more than a string of words meant to endow a small measure of peace to our final accounts with the living."

"What for?" Lars questioned angrily, "Do you want to be renowned enough to be painted onto irrelevant parchments and books? Or what for? to become the emperor's sturdiest underdog?"

"Renowned? That is unfortunate of you to think of me in such a conceited, vane light. Needless to say, I do not work for the emperor." Rakuen said calmly as he stood up, he slowly wrapped the Sarashi-belt in place and proceeded to carefully fix his dark suit on.

"Then what is that you search for that it is worth dying for."

"You don't understand."

"Clearly."

Rakuen eyed him and then walked in closer to Lars, serenely stepping inside his personal space. With his hands, he reached up to each side of Lars' neck, feeling him tense at first to delicately ease under his familiar touch, slightly moving upwards to cup his cheek. Rakuen moved his head, "I've taken justice at my own hands for far too long. Enough to grant me a subversive distinction against that tyrant."

He ever so gradually withdrew his hands from Lars' face, determination burgeoning behind his eyes as he explained, "If I let my guard down, the emperor's men will chase my whereabouts and the people that surround me will not be exempted of my offenses against the sovereign." He sighed, "I can't rest my case if I don't act against their sanguinary oppression. To which I rebelled against, a while ago."

Lars remained silent as Rakuen pointed at the wooden-crested window "Look outside Lars. Look at what you see." Lars idly turned his head and did as told, "There is war, famine, pestilence, death in every corner of my country while the sovereigns greedily lounge in the loot they stole from my people."

Rakuen continued, "Women are being raped and obliged to bear in their womb the offspring of their father's killer and their mother's rapist. Children are dismantled of their innocence and given orders to kill their brothers and die in the name of something they barely understand. Old men are assassinated at the gates of their homes, taken from an honor they earned and their nettled heritage was set on fire, cruelly left to be consumed by the flames they did not welcome." Rakuen moved his head. "I will not end this century-old war single-handedly Lars, but each breath that I muster must occur against the men that have placed my country to its knees."

Lars disapproved, "Isn't that too hopeless to pursuit? Isn't that much of a weight for a sole man to carry?"

"It is." He agreed, "But not as nearly as the people who died voicelessly and violently under the emperor's orders. I've chosen death on my own, if I am willing to kill with this sword, I am willing to die similarly… but the women, children, seniors, and men that can't be regained with justice, undoubtedly never did."

…

"You fight for so many, too much that almost seems like you are fighting for nothing, for nobody. After all these years, are you at least sure that you have saved someone up until now?"

Rakuen gave this question a thought, his eyes vividly recollected each face that once smiled at him, he nodded, "I have."

Lars negated with his head again "This war is not yours to unfetter. Leave these ideologies at the hands of those who have a substantial political influence inside the Emperor's bureau. This doesn't have to be who you are."

"Why not? Because I just haven't forgotten who I must protect. I do not see the lives of those who don't carry a sword with them as meaningless. I will prove my point regardless."

"To whom?"

"To those who live."

Lars looked down, almost defeated "…Isn't that path of life a little bit… _lonely?"_

Rakuen stopped, understanding that his answer would carry what was left of them inside its meaningful outcome. He breathed and finally decided to nod "I work alone and I will probably remain alone. I understand the price I must pay."

Lars sighed and quietly left the room. There was nothing he could add to the conversation. Nothing that could certainly make him change his mind.

Rakuen followed Lars outside the room, the later turned and their eyes met. One last thing he thought he could do. "Remember my words Nakura, for I will only say this once. It doesn't matter what you think, _you can't get killed in a way that matters_." Rakuen's eyes widened, "Stay with me or let me go."

Lars didn't say anything else and didn't allow him to respond, by tomorrow's morning, Rakuen's decision would be clearer than words.

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	5. Chapter 5

_You can't get killed in a way that matters_

_You can't get killed in a way that matters_

_You can't get killed in a way that matters_

_You can't get killed in a way that matters_

_You can't get killed in a way that matters_

Rakuen's firm steps unexpectedly stopped. He quickly realized he wasn't alone. His breath halted for just a second as the presence behind him revealed himself. Rakuen's eyes restfully closed and a hushed sigh escaped his throat to leisurely sidle in a vaporous display to the open-air.

The nightfall whizzed in vigorous gales as it collided their scents with one another. The nightly pine airstream ran dainty against both their faces. The village peacefully slept and Rakuen's tired eyes caught a glimpse of the russet dawn before them, Rakuen moved his head in negative, his bandaged knuckles relaxed and he smiled, "I thought I wouldn't have you walk me outside."

"Well," A sigh followed, Lars walked in closer "I knew you couldn't wait until the morning to leave. That impatient you are."

"I'm not," Rakuen chuckled gently and his hands moved down to readjusted his Sarashi "I just don't like farewells."

The decision was made.

The foil-filled breeze blew faintly between them, so quietly and discreetly that the blossoms appeared to embrace down their shoulders, serenely in succor. Lars slowly nodded.

"Did you want me to say goodbye?" Rakuen questioned, His heart was burning beneath his tranquil façade.

"I didn't." Lars admitted, "But still, faithless by admission," Lars started, "I still hope for your protection. I want to give you this." At his words, Rakuen finally turned around to face Lars.

Hanging from Lars' extended hand, Rakuen eyed a slim, dainty chain. At the very bottom of it, dangling from rusted trinkets, an iron charm with carved words seared directly through his conscience as Rakuen stared. He stepped closer.

"Is this yours?" Rakuen questioned quietly.

Lars nodded and allowed the chain to gradually cascade on Rakuen's cupped palms, "I stole it from my merchant grandfather a long time ago."

"You did?"

"I thought it was valuable." They eyed each other, lost in the natural space that still made them comfortable "When I arrived at Nihon, I tried to sell it in these coasts but time after time, I was told that the Nordic belief incised on the charm made it unwearable for these people," Lars chuckled, "Some people seem to have strong beliefs in Buddha and the majority fear for otherworldly ghouls and deities, so they reject what they haven't heard of. It also doesn't seem to have any gemstone property value as it is mere plated iron."

He continued, "Yet, it has been with me for quite some time and somehow I found myself making sure it was always dangling on my neck."

Rakuen listened and although his chest fluttered, he slowly assented, "You… you want me to have it?"

"Yes, I want you to keep it."

Rakuen inspected the charm and he read the pared words in his mind "Valhalla," he repeated aloud "what does that mean?"

"_Paradise."_

Rakuen stopped and lifted his eyes to Lars, he smiled at him and couldn't stop his heart from beating faster, "Do you believe in that now?"

"I don't."

"Figured," Rakuen lightheartedly grinned, "…It seems to be important to you."

"It is."

"I," Rakuen moved his head, "I don't know what to say-"

"I want something in exchange." Rakuen seemed taken aback. He affirmed with his head and looked back at Lars, patiently waiting for his words to come out, _"Die in a way that matters… "_

Rakuen's eyes opened wide, his breath faltered.

…

Speechless, he frowned, "You don't understand, I am dying for a cause that matters-"

"Nakura-" Lars interrupted, "I will not try to convince you to change your decision. This is the life you have chosen. If I am being fair with your process of thought, your path will have more significance than mine, in any remarkable way possible." Lars moved his head, "I can't change that."

He continued, "All I ask of you is to let yourself be remembered by someone, someone who you genuinely would give your life to, not to a sea of faceless people to whom your voice is unknown. If you've chosen to become dust underneath a war that can't have your name. _Then I only want you to free yourself and pour your mind onto __**something **__before any of that happens._ And at the end of the road, if you ever feel remorse about what you stood for and still do; let it be known, let yourself be read, to someone, somehow. Just don't let yourself be forgotten this way."

Rakuen stepped in and welcoming arms hugged him close, an open kiss on the mouth sealed what both understood was their final departure. Rakuen's heavy heart throbbed underneath his throat, shattering his mind as he faltered, for more than a moment. Their lips pressed even harder _"I love you," _Rakuen breathed between their panting lips,_ "but I am not ready for the torment of trying to forget what I have done. Not yet. I need to save my conscience."_ He confessed between a quiet yet anguish-filled sob, their lips melded softly again, warm lips pressed against each other, passionately, fiery in contempt, in grief and in solace. _"I am so sorry."_

_You'll understand one day._

It was a shared thought that was never vocalized and after a minute or two, Rakuen found himself walking straight out of the village's shrine towers. He turned around one last time "I will find a way to live through what you lend me in this charm," He raised his hand with the necklace tangled in it, "And die in contempt for that moment to forfeit in my wisdom, I will find a way," He kissed the charm as he closed his eyes, "I promise."

They parted ways, never to see each other again.

After a couple of years, and after having the difficulty to keep the necklace intact, Rakuen found a pervasive method to engrave Lars' promise through and throughout. He decided it had to be inscribed in his strongest and most faithful core, the only blade that could live on through any forthcoming upheaval and into his sacrificed life. An iron forged with the sun's only tincture, the sword whose blacksmith named after the fiercest star, one of the three celestial deities; _Amaterasu._ Rakuen's golden sword, craftily made for his own fist to wield.

**Might the barren of this weapon seal in blood and in flesh, formerly and always. His acrid heart must be forgiven and consoled, his remains draught through the breeze and his soul must be carried towards the unperishable land of Valhalla, forever and for eternity.**

Centuries of bloodied and merciless wars didn't lend Rakuen the absolution he searched for even after sacrificing his peace of mind. Decades passed by and with an eternally broken heart, Rakuen realized that Lars wasn't wrong.

After all the time that concurred between their last departure, Rakuen decided that he wished to carry not only the Nordic belief with him but he needed to fulfill what Lars asked in exchange for his necklace. Rakuen decided to ascertain through words what Lars would not be able to witness.

Rakuen, in his lonely path, soon realized that his purposed promise would only reach what heritage he left throughout the footprint that was his era and his lifetime. A son of his, he thought. A man who could carry out the weight of what he felt broken for.

If his son was keen enough, he would eventually find what words of wisdom he wanted to advise, a short letter written on his sword, carved in cryptic methodology -Rakuen decided, as it was a message that he, himself struggled to realize for his entire lifetime.

If he managed to have a son that was hereditary of his hands, then they should place the blade against a mirror, to mimic his own reflection. They would have to connect the last tail of the Kanjis with the first stroke that formed a trace within the lettering, just then imprecise kanjis would start to reveal themselves, through a horizontal loop, for their eyes to read his lonely heart out loud.

Words that could convey his troubled heart and confess loudly that he _did _repent of the life he lived. Just then his promise to Lars would be finally sealed. Rakuen would finally save someone that was not himself.

**Don't persuade your tame heart to mirror my combatant spirit, for the hands of my offspring must ****not be used**** for the same deeds that I breathed for. **_**Die for what I missed and live against what I left. For everything that you love; let your eyes be the only iron that you need to win. Leave this sword behind and**__** never touch it again.**_

In the dark croon that was Rakuen's fogged memory, centuries later, before parting, one of his last thoughts threw him back to the questioning that had him sleepless for a long time.

_If I lend someone I love, what I've learned in the long run, would you say that I died in a way that mattered?_

_Is conquering my own promise enough? Or would you still deem it as impossible? Say, Lars, did you mean that? Or did you only say that because you wanted me to stay… with you?_

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**AN/ The End. **


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